


Unholy Matrimony

by teiidae



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Minor Character(s), Multi, Riku and Kairi show up for a bit, angel au, lore heavy but i tried to condense it, you do not need an understanding of christian angel org charts to follow this i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 09:36:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21072764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teiidae/pseuds/teiidae
Summary: Lauriam doesn't understand much of what makes the First Sphere operate, but he has a sworn duty that granted him entrance from the lower Third Sphere. Renamed Marluxia in a series of events that never really involved him, he delves too deep into what made monsters on Earth. Similarly, Even is bestowed a new name and a purpose that allows him to attempt to prevent the inevitable. When Lauriam breaks, there's only one way to stem the flow. Forgive him, Father, for he has sinned...





	Unholy Matrimony

It had started with an innocent kiss.

Angels and Archangels from the lowest sphere in Heaven - the Third Sphere - had been designed with the express purpose of carrying messages into and out of Heaven for humans who lived on Earth. The relationship was complicated much of the time, and those Angels and Archangels were often considered the lowest form of angelic kind, especially because they rarely stayed aligned with Kingdom Hearts at the center of all creation. It was complicated.

However, those who showed their devotion within the ranks of mortal fraternizers and sowers of giants were granted privileges for their continuous devotion. Devotion to Kingdom Hearts and nothing else meant that the already strict rulings that governed the Three Spheres were abnormally tight and allowed for no wiggle room. Angels and Archangels who rose within the ranks were some of the most strict among all angelkind and their rigid ways were something of a sore spot for those who were created in other, higher, rankings.

Lauriam was one such Archangel. He'd spent the majority of his life singing praises to Kingdom Hearts as he drifted to and from Earth with messages of disaster and death. He'd called to humans for them to readjust themselves, to celebrate life and mourn death, to care for and love each other as Kingdom Hearts had dictated. He had ignored the flirtatious nature of humans, he had honored Kingdom Hearts with the reverence instilled in him, and he had fought to protect his fellow Angels in times of strife.

That devotion had earned him, after millennia of hardship, a spot within the higher spheres. This was something he had taken very seriously, and when he had been granted a second pair of luxurious and feathery soft wings, he found a unique power awaken within him. A power that was honed into a metallic weapon of untold beauty and strength. He had been given this extension of himself and it both pleased and terrified him to see what his essence manifested into.

Angels within the highest sphere - the First Sphere - interacted with each other differently. They were far more physical with each other, brushing their wingtips together in greeting, holding and caressing each other in a unity that was unlike the Third Sphere. Lauriam, then christened Marluxia by the lord of their domain, had tried to copy what he saw while he grew into his second set of wings. He often found himself being too forceful, or even too timid in his interactions, though his partner, Xigbar, was quick to set him straight.

Xigbar was one of the first Cherubim that Marluxia had seen. Where Marluxia wore a halo of white over curtains of pink and skin flecked by the sun, Xigbar’s was grey and black. His halo was severed by battle and in place of one golden eye, there was an ancient darkness coalesced into a patched scar that covered his face and he kept that inky mar concealed behind a smaller tucked wing. That hadn’t stopped his smarmy smiles and studious eye, but he was more welcoming than the angels that studied the universe and balanced the elements.

Xigbar had been like Marluxia once after all: an Archangel promoted to Cherub. Renamed by Xemnas, Lord Xemnas. Though Marluxia was very aware of how strange Xigbar was in comparison, how strange all the angels in the First Sphere were compared to him. It was a tough environment to acclimate to when all eyes were critical, and all words were barbed into his flesh. He’d taken it in stride, but the weights were heavy and strung around his ankles.

Panic was something that Angels and Archangels had been given in order to better relate to humans, and it was an insidious feeling that took too much energy to calm. Marluxia wasn’t sure what had sparked this response. Something within him had changed, he was certain of it, and when he tried to hide it, his thoughts warped before his very eyes, and his wings would quiver with shame.

It had just been an innocent kiss.

Marluxia had embraced his closest friend and ally, the Throne, Even, for mere moments during their afternoon brunch. Even had been renamed as well - Vexen, he recalled - though when he was in private company, Marluxia prefered to call him Even. And Even preferred to call him Lauriam. It was complicated...

They had brushed their wings together in greeting, as usual; Marluxia had kept his secondary wings tucked and out of the way, as usual; they had combed through each other’s hair and had sung compliments to each other, as usual. Everything had been as usual. But in the interim between gracious exchanges of formalities and separating ways, Marluxia had gotten much closer to Vexen’s face. Closer than he had ever been before. Closer than platonic friends really should have been.

He had blinked slowly, heavenly light clinging to his eyelashes and the scent of sweet fruits on his lips. For a moment, it felt as though they were back in the Third Sphere, Lauriam and Even fooling around in the shade of the trees, oblivious that the affection they shared was the norm in the other parts of Heaven. Blissfully entertaining each other’s quirks and lifestyle choices. Jovially poking fun of the humans who just didn’t understand the world around them,

It had been a small kiss. Barely a moment shared between them, but something was off. It was sinisterly genuine in ways that no other angel in the First Sphere would be able to understand.

Marluxia had shifted in place, itchy and worried. He had lingered for more than that one moment between friends. He had lingered on the sticky sweetness of Vexen’s lips and he had imagined himself taking far more than what should have been allowed between angels. He had imagined his lips on other parts of Vexen’s body, marking territory that was not his. He had imagined bunched sheets, quivering feathers, breathless begs and sultry moans. Envisioned himself straddling the other.

Hands filled with ash blonde hair, eyes unfocused.

Blood.

Vexen would have tasted so good, Marluxia was sure of it. Carnal lust and want and  _ need _ filtered through Marluxia in those few seconds. It has stolen the breath from his lungs and burned his cheeks a deep and unforgivable scarlet. And just as he had been about to act upon those sinful desires, light bloomed in his vision and Vexen was staring at him, concerned.

“Are you okay?” Vexen asked, hesitant. He'd been speaking at length about their adjustments to their new duties when Marluxia's eyes had gone dead and his mouth hung slightly agape in listlessness.

Vexen appeared to Marluxia as an ashen blonde man with vibrant green eyes and a permanent scowl. He was adorned in fabulous blue robes, reminiscent of beryl and trimmed with silver and white. Somewhere in the depths of Marluxia's mind, Vexen also appeared as a pair of crystalline wheels forever entwined with hundreds of eyes and an air of incorruptible justice. He was intimidating in a way that the highest echelons were not. He was a startling Principality made Throne and Marluxia was in awe.

Marluxia had his hands folded over a teacup filled with boiling hot water and fragrant leaves. They were sitting on a rooftop garden, their wings draped over each other's shoulders, a crisp breeze tickling their feathers and ruffling their hair. Marluxia quickly came to, closing his mouth in a thin line, life returning to those clear blue eyes almost as quickly as it had left. Vexen, however, worked on a much different scale than Marluxia. He'd seen those flickers of sin and he grew more concerned as Marluxia hadn't acknowledged it.

Was Vexen supposed to say anything?

Marluxia gathered his thoughts, chasing away those dark urges with silent praise to Kingdom Hearts. "I'm okay," he muttered, unsure. "I just felt a little odd is all. It's passed."

Marluxia knew his small bluff hadn't passed Vexen's critical inspection. A Throne was an angel that thrived on the implementation and upholding of truth and justice. Marluxia had known this, and still, he had lied. It was better than admitting his shame for he had never thought of Vexen in this way before. He'd never thought of any other angel in this way before. This was a distinctly mortal desire that plagued the lowest-ranked of the Third Sphere and created giants and monsters on Earth.

Marluxia pulled his wings from Vexen's shoulders and folded them neatly behind his back though they still twitched, displaying Marluxia's unease confusion. They were a stunning white flecked with pink and they were accompanied by much smaller, weaker gold wings still covered in down.

"I should go," Marluxia said curtly, pointedly staring at his teacup. How he wished that he could disappear into the aromatic ripples. "I didn't mean to waste your time, Even. I have to get back to the gates."

"Nonsense," Vexen replied, folding his own wings respectfully. The litany of emerald green eyes that lined his wings remained closed, though the lids moved anxiously. "You have not wasted my time, Lauriam. Any time is time well spent. Though I am worried that you are unwell."

"How so?"

Vexen’s breathing paused. “You seem, distant, for lack of a better word. I understand that the First Sphere is nothing like the Third. But I sense fear in you. Fear leads to making rash decisions.”

Marluxia blinked. He wasn’t afraid, silly Throne, he was ashamed, and it danced in his feathers and made his shoulders redden under his clothes. He couldn’t tell Vexen what he wanted to do. He couldn’t verbalize his sin. So he kept Vexen at a distance, pushed away from the soft grass of their sunny perch, and stayed as far away as he could, leaving behind a fine dust of greying down.

“Be careful!” Vexen called, though Marluxia did not respond.

Vexen internally chastised himself for doing the same thing he always did with those he seemed to care about. He knew Marluxia -  _ Lauriam, _ he thought - was flighty when he was cornered. He’d known it even as a Principality, even though he didn’t spend nearly as much time with the other as he would have liked, Vexen wouldn’t have minded a few more hours of quality time. He found that he enjoyed the way Lauriam smelled and how soft his lips had been, and the way his eyes glittered in the sun. He desperately wanted to have Lauriam as close as possible. To touch him, and hold him, and maybe...

And that was how he knew something was deeply wrong.

Vexen kept his wings ghoulishly still, finishing the last of the tea and gathering the remains of their get together. He wasn’t going to think too hard about it, but he was going to do something about it. Nothing a little observation wouldn’t fix, he told himself matter-of-factly, as if that changed anything.

Xemnas would be hearing from him soon.

\---

Time did not flow the same in Heaven. Marluxia had returned to his duties at the gates of the First Sphere and ignored the tingling sensation that plagued his body. He had to stay focused on the tasks at hand, which were simple and straightforward. Easy to digest, easy to get lost in, and easy to use as a cloak of privacy so he could disregard everything else that filtered through him. If he was too busy to speak to Vexen, he’d be too busy to visualize filling the other with earthly fluids. Too busy to dig his teeth in and devour.

“You doing alright there, Marls?” That was Xigbar again, looking at him with that seemingly omniscient eye. “You’re zoning out.”

Marluxia immediately sharpened his guards, though he tried in vain to keep his feathers from bristling indignantly. “I’m fine.” Though when Xigbar raised an eyebrow, Marluxia immediately backpedalled with a less poisonous look on his face. “Don’t you remember rising through the ranks so suddenly? It’s a bit overwhelming. Incredibly so, I’d say. I’m no longer walking the line between Kingdom Hearts and humans. I’m now walking the line between this Sphere and the others. Xemnas’s kingdom and those outside his jurisdiction.”

Xigbar howled with laughter. It was a dangerous form of laughter that had hooks and barbs dangling from the echoes. “Is that it? Overwhelming? Why didn’t you say so?” He thumped Marluxia on the back and threw his arm around those tight shoulders. “You don’t have to look at me like that, you know. I’m just trying to make sure you’re alright. Us low-ranks need to stick together after all. You know how the higher ups can be.”

Marluxia felt strange.

“Listen, something’s bothering you, and I wouldn’t be a good partner if I didn’t at least try to help you out, would I?” After a brief silence, Xigbar cleared his throat. “This is the part where you say ‘no’.”

Marluxia frowned. “No.”

“That’s the spirit,” Xigbar replied, jovial once more. “How about you and I go see Xemnas now? I don’t think you’ve really had the chance to talk to him. He gets it. Even though he’s a Seraph, he gets it. He knows what it’s like to not feel comfortable with new responsibilities and all that jazz. And afterwards, we can go do something together. Maybe something on Earth since you seem a bit nostalgic for it.”

Marluxia blinked slowly. That might not be a bad idea. Leaning on leadership in times of struggle from someone who could understand would be an excellent way to gain the footing that he kept losing on his own. He couldn’t be pathetic and simpering and human. He was an angel, and angels didn’t have humanity to rely on. They didn’t have the same sort of emotional freedoms and Marluxia was bothered by that even though he shouldn’t have been.

Xemnas was indescribably obtuse, pressing against every one of Marluxia’s sensibilities and snuffing out the candles lighting the blues of his eyes. Marluxia hadn’t understood a single thing about Xemnas, but he simultaneously understood everything about him. He left in a daze, held together only by Xigbar’s hand in his, dark wings shuddering against his own, and sinful whispers into his ears.

They had departed the Heavenly Spheres, hand in hand under the cover of night. They’d danced in the atmosphere of Earth, and Marluxia felt a little bit better about being so odd. So different from the angels that had been the same since the beginning of time. When he was in Xigbar’s presence, things made sense, at least for a little bit.

And when Xigbar promised that Kingdom Hearts would not see them under the cover of his wings, Marluxia believed him. In a moment of earthly sin, Marluxia gave into the throes of darkness and the tips of his feathers greyed more as he whispered his praises in Xigbar’s ears, under him, wings fanned out and trembling under the weight of gravity and the pleasure of a particularly dexterous pair of hands.

\---

It was night still. Again, time did not work quite the same. Marluxia slithered under the covers of a starry cosmos that ticked away at its own obscenely inconsistent pace. Marluxia was covered in bruises and claw marks and they burned satisfactorily. He felt shame and elation in equal parts, though he knew almost instantly that he had done something wrong.

He’d let Xigbar talk him into giving up everything that had gotten him this far in the first place, and while it was wrong, Marluxia now found himself struggling to understand why it was wrong to want to have a connection with another in that way. He wondered  _ why _ it was a sin to enjoy physicality, tangibility - humanity. _ Why _ was the darkness bad when everything felt fresh and new and alive within him now?

His clothing and armor hid his marks, though his eyes were a bit duller than they had been before, the brightness of ignorance robbed from them. It was a palette shift that would go unnoticed by angels that had yet to experience darkness kindled within them. Marluxia internally worked through his plan of action. Even as he greeted others in passing - eyes always mid blink - he wasn’t sure if what this was was truly wrong. It made him feel ill as feathers dropped from him with each flap. Even the gold of his secondary wings was greying and loosing feathers into the clouds that gathered as their base.

Distinct strands of electricity warped through the clouds with each feather digging into the rounded masses.

All the while, Vexen paced through his labs, looking at all the vials and tanks filled with floating creatures and substances he could not yet identify. It seemed that Kingdom Hearts was hard at work balancing invisible scales and redirecting the cosmos according to its own divine whims with Xemnas's guiding hands firmly attached to equally invisible reigns. Vexen had been in deep thought as he paced, counting on endless fingers as possibilities made themselves known to him. His conversation with Xemnas had felt especially odd to him.

He hadn’t tried to understand appeals to emotions he didn’t have, though he almost instantly knew that whatever force had been corrupting Marluxia’s thoughts had already affected Xemnas. Even more so. In fact, if Vexen had been a younger, more foolish Throne, he might have even openly voiced his concern that the corruption came from Xemnas himself. Under the voiceless gaze of Kingdom Hearts and surrounded by those dark imbalances, it would have been uncharacteristically stupid of him to do so.

Though he did open several more pairs of eyes to gawk at the stars and planets as they phased in an out of the jars that lined the walls. Things were changing and he desperately hoped that Marluxia would return to him even if he was broken by the burdens placed on his shoulders. Even if he was covered in mites and sores and the ichor of humanity, Vexen would take him. Vexen desperately kept his steps even and his breathing in sync with the cosmos, the tendrils of panic curling into the soles of his feet as he did so, threatening to root him in place and bring about the cessation of everything.

The seconds dragged on, crossing threshold after threshold until it felt as though years had passed before soft footsteps echoed through the halls of Vexen’s lab. The clouds were dark now, and rumbled threateningly across the heavens, spreading a damp chill that soaked right to the proverbial bone. The winds were chaotic, and light had receded. This terrified Vexen as he kept his pace as consistent as ever.

“Where are you, Lauriam!” Vexen called finally, voice hoarse from disuse. Dust motes drifted from the rafters that were laced across the high ceilings like a fine snow. How had this happened?

“I’m right here,” came a whisper.

Vexen whirled around, blue robes fluttering behind him as all his hardened green eyes closed maddeningly. How long had he been there? How much time had passed?

“I,” he paused, blinking owlishly, as though he’d been slapped in the face. “Lauriam, please come. I thought I lost you.”

“You’ll be upset,” Marluxia replied, his voice stifled in shadow. Vexen could see his secondary wings shuffling meekly, hiding Marluxia from him. There was an acrid stench of humiliation and an overwhelming sense of foreboding. “I don’t look the same. I’m not the same as you once knew, Even. I’m...”

“It’s okay.” Was it? Vexen swallowed the forming lump in his throat, finally coming to a stop. Immediately, the air stilled and time ceased to move within the lab. The stars and planets shuddered to an uncomfortable absence before returning to a stilted rotation as another Throne - far far away from the jaws of darkness - took over. “It will be okay. I’ve developed a solution while you were away. But I can’t do it alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Marluxia wheezed, still shifting in place. “I’m afraid that if I touch you, you will become like me. I can’t have that. I never should have left the Third Sphere.”

“That won’t happen,” Vexen assured.

“It will.”

“No.” Vexen stood straighter, his wings stiffening with authority. “It won’t. I’m an incorruptible force of good and justice. You cannot harm me.”

Finally Marluxia moved. The way his arms and legs seemed to drag behind him filled Vexen with dread. Had he not noticed before? As soon as the light of the wavering moon hit the curve of Marluxia’s face, Vexen was upon him, holding him up straighter and recognizing how heavy he was. Marluxia’s clothes stuck to his body, adhered to the skin by sweat and thick cables of black oils clustered his feathers together. His eyes were closed and a handful red swirling slits with grotesque gold pupils blinked open, gummy with the peels of elastic human skin.

“What happened?” Vexen asked, failing to hide his alarm.

“I gave into the darkness,” Marluxia said. His eyes were so heavy and he felt as though he’d fall from Heaven at any given moment. Even now he could feel how Vexen’s immaculate boots sank into the floor just by touching him. “I thought that it was normal to feel this way. Xigbar had when he’d been promoted, but I don’t like this.”

Vexen pursed his lips. Xigbar. “I have a possible solution, Lauriam, but I need you to focus for me. Just for one moment.”

Marluxia took Vexen’s hands in his own and it took many labored breaths, but Marluxia managed to calm himself enough to push away some of the inkyness. He had become like a small creature, covered in a layer of decay, long feathers dragging in filth that collected at his feet. It was eerily fascinating to watch him struggle so much. Vexen felt a pang of guilt lurch through him as he kept his eyes on Marluxia’s jittery form.

He almost wished he could see how Marluxia would respond to  _ more _ pain.

Almost immediately, the thought perished.

Vexen crouched low, gathering as much of Marluxia as he could in his arms, cooing softly. Warbling and chirping and singing, as all angels were wont to. Vexen rarely truly sang to other angels. In fact, he could only think of one other where the urge was so strong. It was difficult being the type that had to observe all the universe and keep it balanced. Vexen never got to frolic in prayer and song. He never had a reason to. Well, maybe now was as good a time as any. The folds of his throat were rubbed raw and he stopped, though his cheeks warmed when Marluxia returned a few of his calls.

“I’m sorry for failing you,” Marluxia mumbled. “I thought I’d handle it myself. You have so much on your plate…”

Vexen hushed Marluxia, and for a long time, they simply embraced each other as the storm clouds swirled outside in grimmer and grimmer silence. Soon the very sky itself had been swallowed to the point where not even the stars in the universe could be seen through the murky haze.

“You must listen to me,” Vexen muttered, steadying Marluxia as he tensed in flighty panic. “Listen!”

Marluxia’s attention drifted to Vexen’s voice. This was what it meant to see the light in the darkness, wasn’t it? Something so solid and steadfast, like a pillar of ice in a blizzard. Marluxia hung onto Vexen’s every word.

“You must go to the Warriors of Light,” Vexen explained quickly. “If I could do it, I would, but my absence would immediately be noticed and I don’t think I can do anything alone. Not with the corruption as perverse as it is now. You have to do it.”

Marluxia immediately pushed himself into a rigid standing position, his mouth half open to protest, but Vexen cut him off before he could utter a single word.

“You and I both know it to be true,” Vexen growled. “The second I set foot outside of those gates, those who have not fallen prey to Xemnas’s influence will be erased. He will make sure of it and if you’re here, it will be  _ you _ who is made to do it.”

Marluxia frowned deeply. Suddenly Graceful Dahlia being an extension of himself was something to be despised. She was such a sharp edge, meant for destroying and culling on command. It was supposed to be for evil forces, not other angels, and even as he stood in bristled silence with his eyes locked on Vexen’s, he knew that his promise to not raise it against another angel was a false one. So he kept his mouth shut.

“You must find the Throne who exists in the domain of the Warriors of Light,” Vexen continued, his dozens and dozens of emerald eyes opening and closing rapidly. “Their Throne will be able to come here and assist me. If I have her assistance, I can undo a lot of damage. Maybe not all of it, but enough. Enough for it to matter.”

Marluxia took a deep breath. “They will not trust me.”

“You must make them trust you,” Vexen said. “I know her. She will want to help you. She might be contested by her closest friends. In fact, I anticipate it. But she will help you. And then…”

Marluxia took a deep breath. “I’ll have to get back here as fast as possible.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m not as educated as you are,” Marluxia started. Vexen opened his mouth to object, but Marluxia held up a silencing hand. “Let me finish. I’m not going to pretend that I can plan for every single thing that will happen. I do not have a hundred eyes and infinite time to think like you do. I have mere moments to speculate and I will act upon what I think is the best course of action.

“That means that  _ your _ speculations will only get me to where I need to go.”

Vexen couldn’t exactly argue against that. He really was the type to overthink and expect precise implementations of ideas. If everything started with one fertile seed, then the logical chain of events would eventually lead to the desired outcome. It couldn’t be any other way but only because Vexen specifically didn’t desire any other outcomes. Sadly, it did not work that way. Marluxia was right and Vexen hated that.

“Do what you think is right,” Vexen said. “And I will do the same.”

“That is a very peculiar way of wording that, my friend,” Marluxia replied. “What I think is right and what actually is right are two comepletely different things. Especially now.”

“I trust you.”

“You probably shouldn’t.”

\---

The separation between Xemnas’s domain and the domain of the Warriors of Light was never more striking than it was now. There was a distinct line that separated the two areas. The Warriors of Light had an immaculate cloud city that stretched to the highest point of the cosmos. The clouds were a cloyingly sweet shade of pink and gold that swirled together in a mass of fluff that felt unreal.

It was nothing like the strict structural integrity of Xemnas’s domain, which was now covered with clumpy grey and black clouds that were barely indistinguishable from sludge. Marluxia grew uneasy as his darkened form crested over the layers of gold and pink that eventually lightened to a majestic white. The moisture from the darkness clung to him still, but it was tapering off and there was a moment of clarity immediately before he felt a thousand eyes on him.

He could see them bubbling beneath the surface of the cloud structures. They roiled like water and soon formed into a long appendage that lanced out of the pure milky whiteness to strike at him. Marluxia had barely had enough time to skirt around the weapon before it arched around and grasped at him, an infinite fractal of eyes and teeth that held a surprising amount of dexterity for something so immense and impossible to understand.

Marluxia was engulfed and several pairs of mouths formed near his ears, all turned into uncomfortable snarls. The rigid edges of the particularly large fractal appendages sheared a number of feathers of his wings.

“What are you doing here?” There were a dozen voices speaking all at once. Each one inflecting differently. “State your business.”

Marluxia twisted in place and the coils around him tightened. “We’re all on the same side. I’m not here to cause trouble, just talk. Seek help actually.”

The snarling stopped almost immediately, as though it were responding to some kind of external command. The coils loosened and Marluxia felt warmth return to the tips of his fingers. Oddly enough, he hadn’t even noticed that he was freezing. He hadn’t noticed that his feathers were coated in a fine sheen of ice and were drooping. He hadn’t noticed how close he’d been to being ground from the heavens.

“That sounds like you’re trying to trick us,” came the same voice, no longer reverberating from twelve or so places. It had morphed into a single voice, and the eternal fractal had shrunk into a child, no older than sixteen by the look of him. He had long silver hair that was braided out of his face, but his glare was poignant. “You’ve come from where the darkness is spreading. I saw you.”

“You can call me Mar--.” He paused, annoyed that the name he was learning to dislike was the one that immediately came to mind. “Luxia. For now at least.” Another long pause as the other showed no emotion, face as statuesque as the pathetic human interpretations. “I do come from Xemnas’s kingdom, it’s true. But I have not come here to do anything other than ask for help, and I will go through whatever lengths you present to prove it.”

Almost in salute, Marluxia dropped all four of his wings low so they brushed the clouds submissively. His feathers had turned a deep grey, but he kept his eyes on the other for a few seconds before letting those fall as well. Might as well fall completely into the role of the submissive soldier.

“Riku.” That was all.

Marluxia blinked inquisitively. “Riku. I’ve--”

“Yeah, you already said what you’re here for,” Riku said sharply. “You know that entering our territory when you’re an enemy is not only a bad call, but it’s probably going to be the thing that gets you killed, right?”

“Yes,” Marluxia breathed. “I’m going to try anyway.”

“That desperate, huh?” Riku almost smiled. “Must be bad.”

Marluxia found himself trying to bite back the poisonous words that bubbled in his throat. Suddenly, it felt like there was so much more that he did not and could not understand. What was the point of all of this if he was just going to lay down and die by the hand of some angel he’d never seen before? Would it not be better for him to shed his own admittedly human illusion to become and infinite number of spirals and teeth and eyes?

Would it not be better to just shed that light and fully accept the darkness as a tool?

Riku would not budge, but he shrugged, flapping his baby blue wings in dismissal. “Go on, then. I’ve got my eye on you, Marluxia. Seems that someone’s been anticipating you. One wrong move and I won’t hesitate. Keep that in mind.”

Marluxia hadn’t been given time to answer before Riku burst into a flurry of clear triangular fractals and disappeared into the cloud structures, disturbing only the glossy mist that wafted off them. There was an echoing laughter that greeting Marluxia briefly before he understood where he needed to be, still with a thousand eyes on him as he moved. He did, however, have enough dignity to draw his wings back up from the dirt at his feet and fold them neatly, though he kept shedding grey feathers as he walked. Even as he moved, he was acutely aware of how much time it was taking him to get to where he was trying to go. All he could envision between the warped flashes of senseless violence and carnage at his hand was Vexen being discovered as an accessory to treason and being slaughtered in his own lab.

Did angels bleed?

Marluxia only ever remembered bleeding when he had to show humans that he was immune to their threats and weaknesses. He’d only ever bled when Kingdom Hearts wanted him to. He’d only ever bleed if he needed to.

He traveled on foot through the cloud city. The giggling laughter and singing hadn’t gone away even though he felt like there wasn’t a single angel in his immediate vicinity. The coolness on his heels was welcome, and that only served to make him feel more alien and unwanted. Different and scary.

Something to be removed.

“Hello?” Marluxia called. No response. He cupped his hands over his mouth, feeling his body wind up in fear. “Hello! I’m here to see a Throne!”

Again, nothing responded, but he felt like he was being watched, and whatever it was was getting closer. The cyclical nature of his thoughts calmed as wheels turned and wings unfurled. Unlike Riku, who had been a spiral of shapes and colors before settling into a tangible form, this angel was perfectly spherical in every way. Not just two chambers of wheels, but an infinite number of them, each lined by eyes that were open and spun around in invisible sockets. Marluxia was in awe. More than awe, he was humbled immediately.

Understanding nothing about how the First Sphere actually worked, the frustration mounted and then dissipated before it could gain too much traction, eased by the presence of this spherical angel that had called herself Kairi. Marluxia felt an image cross his mind - a girl younger than Riku’s tangible self. Red hair as deep as the rubies that grew in the center of planets and blue eyes purer than the skies of the universe. She smiled and Marluxia immediately felt unworthy.

A Throne made and designed from the beginning of time to be such a thing.

“I did come for help,” Marluxia said. A hundred billion eyelashes swayed in the wind as a fraction of Kairi blinked. “I know I am dirty, and come from the land of darkness. I know I’ve lost myself, but I didn’t mean to. I want to help fix it. I came on Even’s behalf. To make sure he didn’t die trying to help.”

Marluxia felt Kairi’s eyes water and he immediately felt boiling hot tears roll down his cheeks. Somewhere on earth, humans were feeling the rain wash their skin for the first time in a year. Life sprung forth and died and returned. Lightyears were crossed. And Marluxia lowered his wings in submission again, this time not feeling the weight of derision lay across his back.

“He told me you would help. He couldn’t tell me your name, but I think I understand why it was so hard for him.”

Kairi’s warmth enveloped him, overwhelming in its innocence. Kairi was without flaw and carried the entire world on her shoulders without complaint. She was a powerful force of justice and Marluxia wondered if this was why they were called Warriors of Light. It would make sense.

Suddenly Kairi’s warmth was fading, brushed away by Riku’s icy exterior. Defiance.

“No!” Riku roared, twelve cacophonous voices vibrating through Marluxia’s chest. “Of all the things I am willing to put up with, I will not let you go to their tainted section of Heaven. If you can even call it that anymore.”

Marluxia flexed his fingers. That was his cue to leave. He had failed, and he wasn’t going to try to fight for it with Graceful Dahlia so desperately wanting to slice through something. Even if he knew he’d eventually have to draw her forth to cut into the body of another angel despite his vain promises no to, he didn’t want it to be any of the Warriors of Light. That would incite civil war and Marluxia was not going to be responsible for that.

If he was still cast out of Heaven, so be it.

He took a step back, tightening his wings in preparation for flight. He had to leave before Riku decided that his presence was too much of a threat - and in a way, it was - and chose to drive him away by force. Marluxia didn’t think he had the energy to overpower a Warrior of Light. Not while he was so self-deprecating. Not when he couldn’t gather his thoughts about anything other than how much harm he wanted to cause others. He didn’t, however, turn his back on Kairi and Riku. He took the same steps backwards, his feet nearly matching the minute indents left in the clouds from his initial ascent.

As soon as he was far enough away, he spun on his heels, kicking up more puffs of moisture, flexed all four of his wings in a powerful spring, and launched himself into the air. No sooner had his feet left the clouds, did Marluxia feel a squeezing around his ankles. Riku, a spiraling limb of triangles and colors, had latched onto him. Marluxia kicked his legs and strained his wings to lift him up higher and faster. Maybe if he pulled away fast enough, he could break Riku’s death grip on him. The structure of geometric shapes and fleshy mouths stayed taut, not budging an inch. Marluxia struggled more, releasing clouds of feathers and down as he was dragged back to the cloudy streets.

He kicked, grunting with the effort, but Riku’s presence invaded his sensibilities in a similar way to Kairi, only more threatening and far colder. Marluxia wasn’t going to get away. Not that easily.

An eternity passed between them. Marluxia fought against all the urges to fight for as long as he could. He couldn’t incite civil war. He couldn’t be the one responsible for the fall of Heaven and the rise of an eternal darkness. He couldn’t be responsible for the death of his own kind. His blade was only supposed to be for protection! Protection!

His foot was free.

Marluxia squeezed his eyes shut and kept them shut as he felt remains of Riku trickle down Graceful Dahlia’s snath, her belly filled with angelic blood and her teeth dripping with satisfaction. He’d tell himself that it was self defence. He had to if he was going to escape. Kairi’s warmth enveloped him again as he kept his eyes shut, stifling the psychic scream that bounced around in his head from Riku’s anger. There was a promise there. A promise to help a fellow angel, a promise to harm, a promise to tear everything asunder.

There was an overwhelming sense of unity that welled in his chest. The red headed girl only a bit younger than Riku had taken his hand. Kairi would help. Even though Riku had been harmed and it was only a matter of time before other Warriors of Light would take up arms, Kairi would help. Marluxia took a deep breath in eternal gratitude.

It was for protection he’d tell himself. It was only for protection.

\---

“Even!” Marluxia called, landing heavily on the balcony, his wings immediately giving out and dragging behind him. He was exhausted, but he was glad to be back. He was glad that the lab was still in one piece. Despite being gone for what felt like years, Marluxia was glad to see everything still more or less the same.

“Even!” Marluxia called again. “I’m back. I got what you asked for!”

Marluxia was greeted by silence. Perhaps Vexen was resting, or maybe he was just somewhere else. Panic wormed its way into his heart, and even though the strength of Kairi’s aura - her heart - rippled through him, that anxiety only worsened as he let his voice fall away and listened to silence.

Not true silence, he’d reason later, but forced silence. Captive silence. Words stuffed back into a throat under duress.

“...Even?” Marluxia asked again. “It’s me, Mar--. Lauriam. It’s safe to come out.”

The air went still, dust motes pausing in their descent and Marluxia felt his internal workings creep to a standstill. He felt trapped, and he took a deep, rattling breath as he turned around, his eyes scanning for intruders. Vexen normally would greet him immediately, and if the dust of his lab would freeze periodically then he was either struggling to pace, or was hurt. Immediately Marluxia’s mind leapt to the scariest conclusion.

Vexen would be hurt. Caught by Xemnas and left out as bait to draw him out. Marluxia felt his skin ripple with goosebumps and his hair stood on end, a frightened earth animal. He kept flexing his fingers, simultaneously grasping for Graceful Dahlia for comfort and stability.

No, he would not sink deeper into darkness’s welcoming embrace. All he had to do was calm himself enough to think straight. If Vexen was gone, Marluxia would know. He wasn’t sure how, but he would know. The grief would find purchase in his soul from across all of creation. He knew it.

Marluxia centered himself, suddenly aware of a faint fluttering of feathers. He turned again, his wings shifting violently in place. If he hadn’t had more control over himself, he might have burst into swirl of pollen and leaves. There, wrapped in dozens of blackened arms was Vexen, his mouth covered by a dark miasma that gently preened his feathers and brushed at his lashes. He looked panicked, eyes wide and maddening. A warning. A dismissal.

_ Please leave! _

Marluxia’s slurry of emotions immediately separated and rained from his face, the color in his cheeks melting into an ashen grey. He didn’t have enough time to lash out, though, as those arms slithered over each other to reveal Xigbar, his cursed eye uncovered and dripping with malice. His face still recognizable as a contrasted oval amongst all the folded limbs. Vexen’s wings were noticeably lacking a fair number of feathers, which stuck out of Xigbar’s arms and turned black.

“Whoopsie,” Xigbar hissed. Vexen squirmed. “Looks like the sweet one caught us, friend.”

Marluxia tensed. “Let him go!”

“I will,” Xigbar replied, coiling and uncoiling eagerly. “But, you know how it is, sweet one. You do a bad naughty thing and then daddy has to punish you. Ain’t the worlds just cruel?”

Marluxia grit his teeth and an inhumane growl leapt from his throat. Xigbar merely smiled at him and dropped from his perch against the star-studded ceiling. He looked so wrong as he approached in a human shape. Marluxia recoiled from him, not out of anger, but fear. That scarred face, those rough hands that had gripped him so tightly. That sultry gaze and and toothy smile. This was the version of Xigbar that Marluxia had pined for, the version of Xigbar that he had presented himself to.

Xigbar could see that war behind his eyes and his voice reflected that soothing and feral humanity. Displayed like a mask and even though Marluxia knew it was a mask, he could feel himself softening.

“Don’t be like that, sweet one,” Xigbar said. Both his hands were up in surrender, and his wings were drawn around him like a cloud of flies suspended in oxygenless stasis. “It’s our job to protect ourselves. Nobody has to know how treacherous you are. Nobody needs to see that part of you. I understand, you know. I get it. Better than anyone.”

“No, you don’t,” Marluxia growled back, though the sound grew soft in his throat.

“A lowly Archangel from the Third Sphere, spreading messages and death and chaos throughout the Earth for humans that ignore it and disbelieve in your presence unless you rip yourself apart for them? Been there, done that.

“What about being considered low rank despite being more than competent enough to call your own shots? Oh, an angel from the Third Sphere just doesn’t understand how real angels are supposed to work. They come from such slovenly conditions. They wade into the mire with humans and bear children with them. Such a non-angelic thing to do, don’t you think?”

Marluxia ground his teeth, struggling to keep his tangible form looking human. He desperately wanted to explode into a billion seeds and flowers and curl and overrun as much of the darkness as he could before he perished under Kingdom Hearts. Take as many of the unsavable as possible. Maybe he could even stop Xemnas’s plans without having to draw Graceful Dahlia’s blade again, escape without breaking the gates and flooding the other Spheres with chaos. Or worse.

“You seduced me,” Marluxia replied. “You brought me to a place where I would be vulnerable and you took advantage of that.”

Xigbar blanched. “I didn’t do anything to you that you didn’t already want. That’s what we’ve always had to deal with, sweet one. Oh, but I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”

Marluxia didn’t for one moment believe Xigbar’s coy and flirtatious advances. He turned his head away, acutely aware of Vexen’s strained and horrified gaze falling on them. Xigbar lingered closer, his wings shrugging easily into a fluid and lustful dance. Marluxia could hardly breathe as Xigbar closed the distance between them, anticipating a strike. He clenched up, but none came. No violence. No struggling.

Xigbar blinked at him, his single eye a golden yellow and burning through him with a potent form of love that made Marluxia’s skin feel brittle. It was so human. Too human, and Marluxia suddenly understood what the darkness was. What it really was. Not base evil as described by Kingdom Hearts at all.

Why was that so bad? Was humanity truly worthy of this type of scorn?

“I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t have to, sweet one,” Xigbar whispered, his hands soft on Marluxia’s cheek. Tender and kind. “This could go smoothly.”

“Then let Even go,” Marluxia hissed.

Xigbar’s charming smile slide sideways, odd against his human face. “If I let him go, he’s going to glass me. I can’t have that. Xemnas will need us very soon. And I still have some things I have to do, you know? Wheels to spin.”

“Let him go,” Marluxia repeated. He flexed his fingers. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

“You’ve got some bite left in you,” Xigbar said. He sounded disappointed, but there was a barking laugh just behind his voice followed closely by arid otherworldly silence. “That’s good. It means we can each get what we want from each other.”

Marluxia pushed Xigbar away, cleanly slicing the space between them with Graceful Dahlia, who had been all too eager to reveal herself and claim more angelic blood. Xigbar arched out of the way, losing only a few feathers in his haste. Tough crowd today. He hated when angels developed a conscious alongside their humanity. They always flew out of control and started making demands for equality and safety.

“Hey now, no need to be rude,” Xigbar continued with a waggling finger. “I already told you that I get it. We’re the same, Marluxia, you and I. Started on a low rung, climbed our respective ways into a place of superiority. Nobody takes us too seriously. Well, I never wanted anyone to take me seriously anyway.”

“Stop talking!” Marluxia shouted, lashing out with a vicious swing. Xigbar took another easy step back, staying just out of reach. “Get out of my way.”

With one more final slash, Marluxia cleaved through Xigbar, but he disappeared in a burst of dark smoke and glittery feathers. Marluxia growled in his rage, eyes darting around madly in search of his target. He was certain he could take Xigbar out if he could just get his hands on the other. In fact, he was so certain of his that his skin boiled and curling stalks of kaleidoscopic petals unfurled from his exposed skin and layered over the floor as he let go of more and more of his tangible human form.

Xigbar reappeared on his perch, clutching Vexen’s head in his hands as Vexen tried in vain to break free. Something was wrong, he realized. Something about the darkness Xigbar carried had prevented him from being able to let go of tangibility as well. He was stuck in the bindings as fingers and claws dug into him.

Vexen shifted violently in place, making direct eye contact with Xigbar, and if his mouth had been free, he would have let out a threatening snarl of his own. Xigbar’s sneer warped his already wildly altering face as he held up a single fingers to his lips.

“You Thrones think you know everything,” he started as he twirled that same finger. Vexen groaned as his bindings began to constrict more. He could feel parts of him cracking under the pressure. “But if you really did know everything, you’d know that humanity is not necessarily a bad thing. It’s the whole reason we Third Sphere ingrates were even made. To regulate that sort of thing. You know that, right?” He cupped a hand over his ear and leaned closer to Vexen’s face. “I can’t hear you, you gotta speak up, nerd.”

Vexen bristled and shards of ice pierced out from his neck and forehead in distinct defiance. Xigbar only just managed to get away, and even still, his hand was divided at the wrist by a dagger of subzero hatred.

“Talk about stuffy,” Xigbar murmured, piecing his ruined wrist together. “Perhaps you’d like to know what your sweet one’s been getting up to behind your back. That oughta teach you something.”

Another blade of ice and one of Xigbar’s many arms fell from the ceiling, wriggling in place like a raw fish, freshly landed. Xigbar sucked in a breath and completely rearranged his intangible self as it grappled with Vexen’s purified justice. Ah, he hadn’t expected such a fight, and it didn’t help that Marluxia was working himself up into a frothy rage. The scent of plant life was beginning to overwhelm the place. A fine layer of pollen coated every surface.

“All I want is that Heart,” Xigbar said casually, holding his hands up and inching away from the icy spears. “Give me that and you’re free to go, no harm done. No more treating your favorite sweet one like a little concubine.”

Vexen flushed and Xigbar raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you don’t know? Let me put it to you this way, you frigid scholar. If he had been human? Let’s just say he’d probably be with child right now. You know how it is.”

Marluxia was exhausted. Even though his body was deteriorating, he kept drifting between wanting to stay physical and wanting to envelop the landscape in flowers. But he had to focus, if not for himself, then for getting Kairi’s heart to Vexen and helping him escape. He had to focus.

He had to focus!

He forced his wings into place, beating them rapidly, and disappearing in a cloud of pollen and seeds. Xigbar immediately sprang into action as well, summoning two sleek metal weapons to his hands. They glinted maliciously in what little light there was and they were immediately at each other’s throats, metal against metal, sparks flying everywhere and teeth grinding in fury and concentration.

Vexen squirmed again, shifting the loosening arms around him with delicately placed shards of ice as he tried to stay attentive. Marluxia and Xigbar were constantly disintegrating and reforming as they combined into a mass of dark clouds and seeds that spread across the floor, knocking over the sparse furniture and shattering the observation jars.

In the chaos, Vexen finally freed himself, kicking off the rubberly arm and sliding out, though the fingers still clung to him, and he ditched his pristine robes as he landed on the floor, his wings and legs numb from the constant squeezing. He felt strange as he wobbled to his feet and caught his breath. The darkness - or humanity or whatever Xigbar had called it - was not something that acted like any sort of normal force. It made angels weak and that concerned him greatly.

He raised his arms and a wave of icicles drove themselves in between Marluxia and Xigbar, who were still mid struggle and grinding against each other’s weapons. The screeching of the metal ceased as Vexen built a wall and circled it around into an impenetrable orb. That had sapped most of his energy, and he ran after Marluxia, whose shoulders heaved and wings flexed weakly.

“Lauriam!” Vexen grabbed him and spun him around. Marluxia’s face was covered in eyes and teeth, sin dripping from his too-wide mouth. “Are you okay?”

Marluxia almost struck out at Vexen, but immediately, his extra eyes closed, and his face returned to something somewhat human. “You have to get out of here.”

“You’re hurt,” Vexen stated. “Come with me.”

Marluxia grabbed Vexen’s shoulders and sagged a bit. His eyes bred sorrow and determination in equal measure and he winced as he reached for his chest and removed a glistening core of warmth that was covered by various sets of tiny wings. They were both filled with Kairi’s mental fortitude, and tears filled their eyes. Marluxia grit his teeth and shoved Kairi’s Heart into Vexen’s chest.

The ice walls began to melt as Vexen was filled with that searing empathetic energy.

“I'll hold him off and you get out,” Marluxia said. “I’m too far gone anyway. Look at me.”

He cupped Vexen’s cheek and Vexen involuntarily winced as Marluxia’s hands shifted to claws and his extra eyes peeked through his veneer of skin. Vexen didn’t want to acknowledge it, no matter how true it was. He could stop all of this, he just needed time.

Time that Marluxia was going to buy him.

“Even,” Marluxia said. “My job is to protect the gates or die trying. I am built for war. That is my role and you and I both know it.”

“He’s going to kill you,” Vexen breathed. He pushed back against Marluxia’s shove. “I can fix this.” Damn those tears. Damn Kairi for making him feel such intense empathy. He was terrified and he couldn’t be emotional when he had to think!

“He won’t,” Marluxia replied. “He loves me too much.”

Vexen felt a flash of jealousy - pure and human - lance through him before disappearing. He took a few steps back, shaking on his weakened legs and preparing to flee as soon as the melting walls were too thin to hold back whatever it was Xigbar was doing on the other side. Nothing good.

He released his hold on the ice and it crashed down in a harsh surf as he spread his wings and leapt out of the water pooling at his feet. They were surrounded by dozens and dozens of arms, each holding a variation of Xigbar’s weapon with a gleaming tip of energy collecting along the edges. Marluxia grounded himself, the hefty metal of Graceful Dahlia vibrating in his hand, a direct amplification of his fear. He’d have one chance to do this right and he knew he was going to die for it.

Silly angel. He should have just stayed in the Third Sphere. Sure, he would see more than his fair share of horrors, but nothing like this. At least he could have been safe. At least Vexen could have been safe. Humanity wasn’t really that bad now that he thought about it.

A shower of plasma came down upon him from all directions. Marluxia ripped himself apart into a gust of wind that was framed by dandelion seeds and the buzzing of fat bees covered in jackets of pollen. Marluxia blew his winds at Vexen’s back, hurrying him along and whipping the pooled water into a tornado of moisture. Xigbar’s arms struggled against the gale, though it didn’t ultimately matter.

In the blink of an eye, Marluxia felt the burned rings of plasma on his body, his incorporealness rendered moot as he was eaten away by the chaotic energy. Pollen turned to feathers, feathers turned to ash, and the ash was whisked away. Marluxia was face down in the water, a boot to the back of his head, weapon tips on either side of him as Xigbar crouched on him.

“You don’t know a thing about war, sweet one,” Xigbar whispered, digging his heel in. “Give me the heart. Nice and easy now and nobody gets hurt.”

Marluxia flapped his charred wings in half hearted defiance. No, not like this. He felt Xigbar’s delicate hands grasp him at the joints. The same hands that had made his body sing, the same ones that told him how much love Xigbar had for him. This wasn’t personal. Bones snapped and Xigbar apologized to him with a breathy grunt. It wasn’t supposed to be personal. Sinew and tendons stretched and Marluxia curled into himself, cracking teeth as he refused to yield.

It hurt to not struggle. It hurt to not thrash around and wildly try to right himself. He was so tired and his attempts to dissipate into a natural gust failed as those plasma needles pinned him into a weakened and submissive position. He absolutely hated it and as darkness spread through him, he wheezed out clouds of burned pollen and ash. He hated this more than anything.

His nubile wings were dropped at his sides. How he had missed the golden down. But he had given Vexen a chance to escape and that was what was supposed to matter most. He blew bubbles in the water, hair stringy and wet against his forehead. He hated this so so much.

“Xigbar!”

Ice once again took hold of the water and Marluxia was encased in a fine layer of frost as Vexen’s boots appeared in front of his face. There, arm outstretched, the beating heart of a powerful Throne in hand, was Vexen, his face scrunched up in anger and betrayal. His entire body trembled as ice wound around his arms and torso. Xigbar peeled his fingers away from Marluxia’s primary wings, leaving the joints swollen and stiff.

Xigbar’s eye widened in delight, admiring Kairi’s heart with the lust of a power hungry tyrant. He took it without hesitation. Marluxia grabbed Vexen’s boot pathetically.

“No…”

Vexen did not look at him. “Leave,” he said. “You said nobody gets hurt. Take it and leave.”

Xigbar shrugged and all his arms disappeared along with all his weapons and all his black ichor and smoke. He covered his scarred eye with a single black and grey wing, which twitched awkwardly. The lab was still in shambles, but it was no longer a battleground.

“I am a man of my word, aren’t I?” He bowed and stepped back. “You’ll want to put those on ice before they disappear.”

Vexen’s eyes, still narrowed in contempt flicked his wrist and Marluxia’s smaller wings were encased in ice. He blinked and Xigbar was gone. Immediately, he fell to his knees, grabbing Marluxia and rolling him over, warbling in panic as Marluxia begged to be left alone. No matter how soft the trill, Marluxia responded only in pain.

“I’m so sorry,” Vexen wept. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

Marluxia, still deliriously begging Vexen to run away, grasped for his hand, which Vexen obliged instantly. His tears were hot, rolling down his cheeks and freezing before falling into Marluxia’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m so so sorry.”

“I know…” Marluxia replied finally. Spent.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” He closed his eyes.

“I love you so much.”

“I know.”

“And I hate him.”

“I know.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

Marluxia gently stroked Vexen’s hair out of his eyes. His beautiful and wise green eyes that kept untold stories and knew so many good ways to make tea and enjoy company. Green eyes that did not look right looking so bereaved with guilt and sorrow. Marluxia smiled.

“I know…”

**Author's Note:**

> My half of an art-fic trade with Ramourzi on Twitter.


End file.
